


Psammead

by DancesWithNargles



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst and Humor, Artist Steve Rogers, Avenger Sam Wilson, Avengers Family, Awesome James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Awesome Sam Wilson, Baby natasha, Bruce and Tony are boss at scientific assessment, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Clint Barton is retired and didn't sign up for this $h!t, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic, Fatherly Bucky, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, I do what I want, Kid Natasha, Kid Natasha Romanov, Multi, Natasha Needs a Hug, Non-Serum Steve Rogers, Past Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper potts is scared to be in this fic, Pepper potts shows up for like two seconds and the leaves because these people are just ridiculous, Poor sam has so much on his plate, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Sam Wilson, Rhodey Is a Good Bro, Rhodey shakes his head a lot, Romantic Angst, Sam Wilson Feels, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Skinny!Steve, Steve Rogers Feels, Suicidal Thoughts, Tags Are Hard, Thor Is Not Stupid, Thor is sweet and innocent and honestly wasn't trying to cause trouble, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Vision seriously has no idea what's going on, Wanda Maximoff Needs a Hug, Wanda did not sign up for this, Wish-Fulfillment, Wishes, Wishful Thinking, adventure and domestic all in one, but Thor causes trouble anyway, don't know what Riley's last name is, no like wanda needs the biggest hug ever, poor wanda, psammead, read this and find out what sand fairies are, sam wilson makes bad decisions but is still a good person, sam wilson/original character - Freeform, sand fairies, seriously someone needs to hug wanda, so I made up Riley's last name, tags give things away, what else are you gonna do on a friday night?, why not?, wishes are trouble, you don't know what a sand fairy is?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancesWithNargles/pseuds/DancesWithNargles
Summary: The Avengers help Thor subdue an Asgardian foe, but at the cost of unlocking a long-feared curse: the fulfillment of one unspoken desire. Sam Wilson wishes Riley hadn’t died, Steve Rogers wishes he could be small again, Wanda Maximoff wishes she could control people’s fear of her, and Natasha Romanoff wishes she had her childhood back. Would it be so terrible to have these wishes granted? Apparently, the answer is yes.Updates every other Tuesday





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with all of my stories, I have a musical soundtrack-- songs for you to listen to while you read.  
> The Story Soundtrack Psammead can be found on  
> Spotify (Sassafrass Cass): spotify:user:128495777:playlist:3rlPrldK55qC8dYqjVNmN0  
> youtube.com (AddictedToMayer): https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2Ob033ro0EINxSKYpgpvbABNOTPnk5OE

_—“An Ending, A Beginning” by Dustin O’Halloran—_

Bucky Barnes was filled with a surge of dread.

“Don’t go,” he murmured with trepidation, pressing his forehead against Natasha’s and winding his arms around her waist like it might keep her in Avengers Tower with him. Only a few steps away, Sam and Steve waited beside Thor with strained patience. To hell with them. They could wait a little longer.

“You said that already,” Natasha teased, pecking a kiss to his chin. “It’s not my fault you drew the short straw.”

But Barnes wasn’t feeling playful. “Natasha,” he growled, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

“Stop,” Natasha whispered soothingly, as though speaking directly to his fears, and she drew gentle fingers along the curve of his jaw. The sensation sent a wave of calm swirling through Barnes’ core.

Barnes breathed a relenting sigh and held Natasha’s face tenderly, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead and slipping his fingers into her soft hair. All right, enough of that—Natasha had work to do and so did he… if anyone called “guarding” an impenetrable Tower “work”.

Striding toward the waiting group of Avengers— which now included Tony Stark and Wanda Maximoff— Bucky couldn’t help but glare mildly at Thor. After all, Thor was the one who’d shown up and “beseeched” the Avengers to come to Asgard, something about re-capturing an escaped prisoner. It made Barnes even more nervous that Thor wasn’t being very forthcoming with the details.

And then Bucky switched his glare to Steve. It had been Steve’s idea to draw straws for who would go to Asgard – Tony, Sam, Steve, Natasha, and Wanda – and who would stay on Earth to guard the Tower – Bruce, Bucky, Vision, and Sam’s girl, Harvey. Well, not so much Harvey. She was… retired.

“I won’t let anything happen to her.” Steve said of Natasha, reaching out to grasp Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky glowered. “You and I both know it’s the other way around, idiot.”

“Damn right it is.” Natasha winked.

“Maybe so.” Steve glanced at his teammates. “Ready to go?”

“Can’t leave yet, Barnes forgot my goodbye kiss.” Tony pouted.

But Thor was already raising his hammer – a beam of blue surrounded them and Barnes’ stepped back, shielding his eyes and watching his friends disappear.

* * *

 

_—“One Way Or Another” by Until The Ribbon Breaks—_

Almost as soon as the blue beam brought them to Asgard, Steve could feel in his bones that something bad was going to happen.

It wasn’t the way his breath fogged in front of him; the chill of their dark surroundings seeping through his uniform. It wasn’t the high and narrow cavern that stretched forward for miles in the meager light of Tony’s arc reactor. And it wasn’t the sound of their footfalls, echoing against the walls and cutting through the chokingly thick silence. It was what Steve sensed in the companion beside him: Thor’s gait and expression were nervous.

“It’d be best if we knew what we were up against.” Steve prompted, gazing at the soundless, black tunnel ahead of them. A wisp of red energy sizzled behind him and he knew Wanda was trying to illuminate their path—but the darkness enveloped them such that her light did almost nothing.

Thor spoke in a hushed voice. “The prisoner is called Tram, he is smaller than a Midgardian man, possesses no great physical strength, and bears the Curse of the Living Breosthord.”

Tony’s footfalls were the loudest, the Iron Man boots ringing against the stone floor. “See, it’s funny because you keep saying that word again and again,” Tony grumbled behind his mask, “but we don’t really know what it means. Any more than we expect you to know what Nintendo is.”

Thor smirked at Tony. “That analogy is poor, as it was _you_ who introduced me to Super Mario.”

“That sounds so strange coming out of your mouth.”

“Nevertheless, I see your point. Breosthord is the great treasure of thoughts and feelings which we keep safe within our chests, ready to be shared with those willing and worthy.”

“So, deep desires? Wishes?” Tony snorted, his arc reactor shining brightly. Strangely, the blinding light had Steve raising a hand to shield his eyes, but it did them little good in the intense black. “It’s a genie. We’re looking for a genie.”

“I know this word and it is not the same.” Thor’s forehead wrinkled in thought. “Have you knowledge of the Psammead?”

All at once, a flood of memories played through Steve’s mind. “You mean the sand-fairy that grants wishes, but the wishes turn to stone at the end of the day?”

Thor nodded.

“It’s from a book.” Steve explained to the confused faces behind him. “The Five Children and It, written in 1902.”

“This still doesn’t explain why you’ve asked _us_ to help you, your Highness.” Wanda very prudently pointed out, shoulders shivering slightly in the chill.

“With a whole galaxy of allies to call on, why’d you ask the Avengers to recapture an escaped convict?” Sam added.

“It is my hope that Midgardians are immune to Tram’s curse.” Thor answered tersely. “And I believe he has returned here to seek out his sister, Marta, the Compeller of Truths. She was also born with a curse – none within a stone’s throw can help but utter their most hidden secrets—but she is older, wiser, and more compassionate than her brother. Marta hid herself away long ago in these caverns, to keep others from harm unless the King had need of her. But her brother, Tram, is… much more vicious.”

“Tram has the ability to grant wishes; Marta has the ability to make people confess?” Sam whistled low. “And you’re pretty certain we’re all immune?”

“I don’t get why we’re calling wish-granting a curse.” Tony objected under his breath.

Thor quickened his steps. “I would prefer that no subject of Odin perform this task. Malice can be hidden deep, and if Marta were to make them confess it and Tram induced a wish… No, I must ask this of you, my friends, who bear no ill-will of my father or his subjects, should Marta or Tram’s powers overcome you.”

“That’s not the _comforting_ answer we were looking for.” Tony sighed.

Of the six of them, Steve noted, Natasha hadn’t said a word. It was obvious she was on edge. He turned and reached to brush his fingers against hers, a silent reminder that he had her back as surely as she had his. And while her eyes remained determinedly forward, she squeezed his hand in confirmation.

“Okay, heads up, everyone. I’ve got an idea for smoking the genie out,” Tony raised his hands to his mouth, calling out, “I _wish_ we could find Tram, the sand-fairy!”

They each jolted at the sudden, sharp echo jumping from wall to wall.

“Sorry, that was a little loud.” Tony flinched, visible even within the suit. “These tunnels really carry sound, don’t they?”

“Friend Stark, that was a foolish thing to do!” Thor swept in front of Tony. “Did you not think before you spoke?”

And as Tony took a step back from Thor, the light from his arc reactor slid over the small form of a frightening and angry creature. Wanda grasped Steve’s elbow, his body a barrier between her and the shadowy outline of the gruesome thing wheezing at Tony’s feet. All were frozen in place, entranced and horrified.

“You spoke,” Tram retched, his rubbery chest expanding with difficult breaths, slimy skin glinting in the light. “And I am here.”

“Looks like Yoda. Or a gremlin.” Frantic whispers spilled from Tony’s mouth. “Maybe their lovechild—or maybe more like Gollum, if he had—”

“Get it together, Stark.” Sam shook him from behind.

“What? It’s the truth…” And shining his light a little to the left, they caught sight of another creature.

Steve thought she looked mournful, like she wanted to help, but couldn’t. Soft, blue-grey fur lined her body—a stark contrast to her brother’s hairless, slime-covered limbs—and her eyes were intelligent, full of years. This must be Marta.

“You shouldn’t have spoken,” She sighed in a distinctly feminine voice.

“There isn’t a day goes by I don’t say that to myself.” Tony took another step backward. “In fact, now I’m wishing—”

“Tony, you’ve got to stop.”

“I’m trying! I can’t stop talking! Why doesn’t—”

“You never stop talking,” Wanda reproached, startled as though her mouth had betrayed her. “You never stop making things worse—”

“—Stop talking!”

“—don’t know why I’m—”

“—you need to—”

“Shutup, man!”

The cacophony of their voices filled the cavern walls, and the thick haze of Marta’s Compulsion of Truth fell over Steve like a wave of humidity. Immediately he felt extremely drunk, helpless to his own inane babble as it poured freely from his lips. Even so, they must capture Tram! The creature hobbled through the tunnel while they sightlessly chased after him, all prattling honest nonsense.

And then the first of them made a wish.

“I wish people weren’t afraid of me.” Wanda pressed a hand over her mouth, the other hand reaching out with red tendrils of light that sputtered out once she’d spoken. She stood gaping at her shaking hands.

Secrets escaped Steve’s mouth without censure and though he fought hard, he could feel his control sliding away.

“I wish I had my childhood back.” Natasha said through gritted teeth and immediately she fell to the ground.

As much as Steve wanted to duck back and help her up, he had to remain on target: find Tram! Get Tram! End this nightmare! The light of Tony’s arc reactor was flailing chaotically with his suit, but Steve finally caught sight of Tram and thrust out a hand to grab his leg.

Tram’s other leg struck out at Sam’s middle, causing him to grunt, “I wish my best friend hadn’t died.”

Caught him! Steve grappled Tram to the ground, ignoring the claws scratching at his face.

“Thor!” He called out, and a traitorous string of truth leaked through his teeth: “I wish I hadn’t changed.”

But before Steve could witness what had come of their errant wishing, a bright ring of blue encased him and his teammates, hurling them through the stars and returning them to the entertainment room they’d all been standing in only minutes ago.

* * *

 

_—“The Departure” by Max Richter—_

Bucky’s brow crumpled.

“I know that look.” Clint groaned from his seat on the other side of the chess board. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I heard…” Barnes cocked his ear toward the door of Harvey’s apartment within the Tower.

Those sounds coming from the communal living room definitely weren’t Harvey returning from the grocery store. Even though she lived with Sam in Avengers Tower she still insisted on stepping out to buy her own groceries, the silly thing.

Squinting at Clint, Bucky wondered aloud, “You don’t think they’d be back already, do you?”

“I think you miss Nat.” Clint snorted, but all at once he must have heard it, too. “That’s gotta be one of the fastest—”

“Somebody help!” A person cried out, and Bucky sprinted out of the apartment with Clint following close behind.

They followed the calls for help until they reached the communal living room, unprepared for what they saw next: Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Tony stood in a circle around a legless body on the floor. Natasha was nowhere to be seen.

Bucky Barnes was filled with a surge of dread.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we learn about the "symptoms" of the curse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't edited and I plan on coming back later to do it! No songs for this chapter, those will come later, too!

Wanda’s eyes strained against the transition from hellish black to bright sanctuary, and she reasoned that Thor must have transported the team, though he himself was absent. They were no longer beneath the ground, no longer trapped between cold stone walls that were eerily devoid of sound; they were home, _safe_! Blessed daylight washed over them through the pristine ceiling-high windows of their Tower. But any relief Wanda felt was overpowered by the panic that followed the Avengers from black hell to bright sanctuary.

She sensed Tony’s panic as he gazed at the naked, scarred, and legless body on the floor, confusion stopping the questions on his lips.

She sensed Sam’s panic as he fell to his knees, checking said body for a pulse and crying out shrilly for help, coupled with the chant, _“Riley? Oh, God, Riley?”_ It was Friday who answered calmly that the medical team was on its way.

She sensed Steve’s panic as he covered the legless man, strewing over him a throw blanket from a nearby chair. And then Steve looked at his own hands as though seeing them for the first time—long, skinny fingers attached to lean arms and bony elbows—and the rest of his shrunken figure in the ill-fitting uniform that began to pool at his knees.

She sensed Clint and Bucky’s panic as they appeared in the hallway, gaping at the scene before them. Clint dove beside Sam with clinical calm, but Barnes… Barnes looked _haunted_ , staring wide-eye at Steve, who nearly tripped as he swiveled toward his friend. The action only served to spook Barnes further and he stumbled backward with a whimper, bolting back down the hallway to God-knew-where.

And loudest of all, Wanda sensed Natasha’s panic. She couldn’t _see_ Natasha, but the fear rolling off of her teammate was like an all-encompassing smoke, nearly choking her.

A hand on Wanda’s shoulder made her head snap up.

“Wanda?” Steve’s eyes were still blue, even if they were sitting in a too-small face.

The medical team arrived and lifted the legless man to a gurney, but it was happening too fast for Wanda to keep track of. She was only truly aware that Sam and Clint were gone, leaving her alone with Steve and Tony.

“Wanda, can you hear me? I think you’re in shock.”

Wanda’s gaze travelled sluggishly up and down the blonde man in front of her. “Are you not?”

“No,” he huffed a humorless laugh. And she could taste it, that _his_ fear was the least of all fears in this room.

“I need…” Tony swallowed dryly, his helmet resting in the crook of his arm and his face expressing how Wanda felt. “I need everyone down in the lab. Right the hell now. We’ve gotta figure out what happened to us.” He looked around, forehead crinkling. “Where’s Natasha?”

Wanda stretched out with her senses. “She’s here, I can feel her…” Tilting her head to examine the room, Wanda took a shaky step toward one of the black leather couches. “…somewhere.”

A sniffle caught everyone’s attention and all eyes landed on a tiny head of red hair under the coffee table.

 

* * *

 

Steve’s head jerked in the direction of the soft crying, taking a cautious step forward.

“Oh, no. Aw, Nat,” Steve shook his head in sympathy, hands on his hips. “Okay. Yeah, Tony, we’ll get everyone down to the lab.”

Kneeling slowly, Rogers hiked up his baggy pants, leaning further down to see under the coffee table. A curled-up toddler lay there, her green eyes watching his every movement and her features—rounder, smaller, and more cherub-like, but _undoubtedly_ a younger Natasha Romanoff—were lined with suspicion.

“Natasha,” He sighed with another shake of his head. “I need you to come out from under there.”

Steve was startled when her high-pitched, squeaky voice answered in Russian. Both the tone and the language were not what he was expecting. The child scooted further away from Steve, glaring at him.

“Do you think,” Steve glanced back at Wanda and Tony, who watched with avid interest, “she’s still Natasha? Or is she Natalia?”

“What’s the difference?” Tony shrugged irritably. He clearly wanted the familiar surroundings of his problem-solving workspace; that much closer to answers for all of them. As much as Steve understood, he couldn’t shake the importance of this question. And in the short pause, Tony finally comprehended what Steve was really asking.

“Oh. Ohhhhhhh. Like, adult Natasha brain, baby Natasha brain—aw, hell.” Tony scrubbed his face with a gauntleted hand and winced, shaking his head at the ceiling. “I don’t… I can’t—let’s just get everyone to the lab. Questions and answers there. I can’t handle it right here.”

“Fine.” Steve nodded, nervously turning back to the table. “Natasha, you know me, don’t you?” He smiled awkwardly at her, but that only unsettled her more, causing her to say a Russian word he was well-acquainted with. _No_. It was obvious this word was not a reply to his query, but rather a general sentiment of distrust and fear.

“Damn it.” He wasn’t looking forward to dragging her out, but he couldn’t see any other way around it.

Reaching with an arm that still didn’t feel like his, Steve tried to grasp for her ankle, but she shifted further away, shouting her objections and clearly calling for help. Steve was seconds away from aborting his efforts when a cold, hard hand clamped painfully around his bony shoulder, dragging him away. There stood Barnes, a murderous expression on his hard face, eyes seething with barely-controlled anger, lip raised in a silent warning.

“Move. Away. From her. Now.” His gravelly voice left no room for argument and Rogers slid himself as far from Barnes as he could manage. A short moment of panic filled him as he watched Bucky raise one side of the table— _he wouldn’t hurt Natasha, would he?—_ and the child pressed herself against the shining, black tile of the floor, tears sliding down her cheeks as she screeched.

The soft, reassuring purr of Russian coming from Barnes’ mouth was completely at odds with his terrifying appearance, but his soothing and hypnotic words coaxed the young Natasha from her hysteria and quieted her sobs to quick sniffles and quiet tears. Her reply was heartbreakingly sad and scared, and something mysterious and tender passed between her and Barnes. Steve’s fear for her safety was eliminated when Barnes reached out with both hands and scooped up the tiny Natasha, hiding her little body in the crook of his metal arm and pressing her small face to the bend of his neck, all while hushing her softly and glaring at everyone watching.

Barnes’ free hand shot out to the space beside Steve’s shoulder, causing him to jolt in surprise, but it was only to retrieve a throw blanket strewn on the couch beside Rogers.

Tony cleared his throat as Barnes tucked the blanket around Natasha. “M’kay, now that that’s all settled…” He waved them all toward the elevator.

 

* * *

 

Barnes had questioned his sanity when he showed up in the entertainment room, only to find Steve in a smaller body that belonged in the past and not in their current time. But what followed afterward had caught him off-guard even more. There was a mysterious paternal instinct buried deep in Bucky’s subconscious, something that hadn’t been tapped into since before the War, and it was lit aflame by the frightened and helpless plea of the child in the living room, causing him to return there with heavy footfalls and an unstoppable purpose. A blaze erupted in his veins and he was only aware of one objective: protect.

As soon as he’d seen the girl, soft features and chubby limbs, the bonfire in Barnes’ chest became less erratic and fell away into something quieter. It had been second nature to hoist her into his arms, to wrap her in a cocoon of soft cotton, and to murmur soft reassurances he knew the others weren’t able to understand. He didn’t care if they did. And he only followed Steve to Tony’s lab because he was the least threatening of them all.

The workshop, an array of metal workbenches strewn with bits and pieces of this circuit board and that interface, did not intimidate Barnes as much as it usually did, and he found a stool to perch from in the corner of the room—close to the exit, good view of everyone else, and easy to launch himself from if the moment called for it.

Barnes paid little attention to the conversation between Wanda, Tony, and Steve until he found them all staring at the child again.

“—unless we make sure it’s really Natasha.” Tony was crossing his arms and watching the girl in a way that made Barnes uncomfortable. He squeezed her tighter in his arms, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her shivers were gone and she was nuzzled into his neck like he’d prompted her to earlier. She might even—Barnes couldn’t look down to confirm without disturbing her—have fallen asleep. Whatever Steve and Tony were arguing about, Barnes didn’t care, so long as it didn’t involve him.

It was easy to lose track of time with a tiny body snuggled into Bucky’s arms, tranquilizing him with the rise and fall of her little shoulders with each whispery breath until he thought he might fall asleep himself. He nearly did until someone else arrived in the workshop.

“They didn’t have the cranberry almond bars,” a woman announced, breezing through the doorway of the workshop without looking up from a store receipt, “but I did find the dark chocolate protein packs.”

Barnes tensed for a moment until he realized it was Harvey. Jean shorts, knee-high socks covering pale legs, and a black hoodie that declared _It’s Okay, Pluto, I’m Not A Planet Either_. He might have laughed if his day hadn’t already gone to hell.

“Care to tell me why you’re buying me protein packs?” Tony snorted in amusement, crossing his arms and watching her as though waiting for a reaction.

“Because I have absolutely no self-control,” Harvey cocked her head sideways at Tony, whipping her pony-tail to the side with not a trace of regret on her face. “And I broke into your stash on Tuesday, just like I promised I wouldn’t, and I mean to replace it before…” her sentence died away as her eyes slowly lingered over Steve’s small appearance. “What the hell happened?”

Steve shrugged like the intelligent fella he was. And Harvey, bless her, shrugged right back and took it in stride, handing a grocery bag to Tony and turning to speak to Wanda when the child in Bucky’s arms caught her eye.

“Who’s this cutie?” Harvey gushed with a vibrant smile, bending to be at eye level with the child that was now squirming in Barnes’ hold to get a better vantage point of this stranger.

<Volosy!> The girl smiled and pointed.

“What’d she—”

“She likes your hair.” Bucky made a motion with his hands at Harvey’s maroon tresses.

“Thank you,” Harvey beamed, sticking a tentative finger out to caress the red locks of the little girl. “I like yours, too. Very pretty.”

<Ona govorit, chto vashi volosy ochen' krasivaya.> He translated and the child beamed back at Harvey with a pleased coo and a wide grin.

“Her cheeks are so squishy, I could die!” Harvey squawked, turning to find an entertained Steve watching them with a half-smile. Wanda, Bucky finally noticed, had retreated to the other side of the room, occupying the couch with her head in her hands.

“Listen, Harv,” Tony stepped forward, reaching out to pat the woman’s shoulder, “it’s been a long day and we’ve got blood tests to run—”

“You can’t be serious, Tony,” Steve groaned. “You can _see_ her, right?” He waved a hand at the babe in Barnes’ arms. “You can _see_ the similarities.”

“I’m just saying, a blood test wouldn’t go amiss—”

Barnes growled, trying not to squeeze the girl tighter than he already was. “You don’t get to touch her.”

Immediately, she made a pathetic noise of distress that sent a strong shot of pity to Barnes’ gut and a growing desire to run.

“You’re not talking about pricking this baby, are you?” Harvey shoved herself between Bucky and Tony. “Because I’ve only been on the scene for, like, two minutes and even I can see that you’re making her current guardian uncomfortable,” she turned to look Barnes’ straight in the eye without wavering for a moment, “which means she can probably tell that you’re freaking out, and so she’s freaking out. So, let’s all _calm down_.”

“Natasha,” Tony sputtered, as though it would make sense to Harvey. “She’s Natasha.”

“There was an accident.” Steve tried to explain better, shifting when his uniform continued to stray from his slight form. “It’s a very long story, but the short version is that we were all enchanted and it affected us in different ways. It made me small again, it made Natasha young, and Wanda…” He looked back at her, “we’re not sure what it did to her yet. But we’re going to figure out a way to reverse it.”

Harvey’s eyes dropped solemnly to Natasha and Barnes knew there was no room for disbelief. He’d questioned it earlier when he’d first heard them refer to it, but somehow he _knew_ , just from holding her, that this was Natasha.

“Where’s Sam?” Harvey’s eyes rose from Natasha to Steve’s, hardened with a demand for the truth. “What happened to Sam, Steve?”

“He’s fine.” Wanda finally spoke. “But his friend isn’t.”

“Friend?”

“Riley.” Steve answered tiredly. “Riley’s alive.”

Harvey nodded, blowing out a breath and shaking her head from side to side. It seemed like ages before she spoke again and everyone was quietly waiting for her to either run screaming from the lab or whatever else a conventional person would do when confronted with the drastic changes of her friends. But if one thing in all of this confusion was certain, Harvey was _not_ a conventional person.

“Okay then… is it okay if I steal Steve and Bucky? Do you need them for anything?” she asked of Tony.

“Nope. Knock yourself out.”

“You need clothes.” She pointed at Steve. “She’ll need diapers.” Harvey pointed at Natasha. “And you need beer.” She pointed at Bucky. “And I need lunch, so let’s all head up to my apartment.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers become fully aware of what's happened to them.

Step by hesitant step, Harvey led them to her apartment. Despite her confident exterior, she was brimming with nervous tension. Wanda told her Sam was fine, but Harvey wouldn’t really believe it until she saw him with her own eyes.

“You can raid Sam’s closet,” Harvey offered to Steve, opening her front door with a flourish. “Er, unless you think something from my closet would fit better—”

“It’s fine. As long as you’re sure Sam won’t mind,” Steve grinned. How could he look so calm and collected? It puzzled her greatly that Steve waltzed through the living room and into her and Sam’s bedroom looking like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“And…” She turned to face Bucky, whose redheaded bundle was beginning to squirm, trying to get a better view of her new surroundings. “…I could, uh, make some baby food? I’ve got a blender—”

Speaking in Russian again, Bucky softly asked the little Natasha a question. This, the little girl replied to by opening her mouth wide and proudly showing him her teeth. Bucky looked back at Harvey and shook his head.

“No need.” He said, expressionless. Best poker face ever, Harvey mused, because if her boyfriend had been transformed into a toddler, she’d be losing her crap right about now. But then the girl tugged at Bucky’s hair insistently, causing him to incline his ear to her whispering lips.

His brows rose. “Derr’mo. Bathroom?”

“That way,” Harvey pointed, and he took a few steps before thinking better of it and turning back to Harvey, awkwardly offering up the child in his arms. _Now_ his internal struggle was discernible, his clenched jaw and inability to look her in the eye, and Harvey gathered up Natasha with a promise that they’d be done as quickly as possible.

 

* * *

 

Steve yanked a T-shirt over his head and stepped into the living room to find a pacing Bucky and no Natasha. Barnes’ dark hair fell into his face, swaying with each jerky movement of his tightly-controlled legs, and Steve held back his query when he heard the voices behind the bathroom door. Ah.

“Settle down, Buck,” Steve adjusted the running shorts around his waist, stepping cautiously forward. “They’ll be out in a minute.”

“How did…” The words seemed to stick painfully in Bucky’s throat. His hands clenched at his sides and his feet locked him in place. He coughed and tried again, the emotion in his voice palpable. “ _What_ did you _do_?”

Steve tried not to take it as an accusation, but it sure as hell sounded like one. He sighed, running thin fingers through his hair. “We screwed up. Thor had us chasing down a… a wish-granter. We didn’t know there was a _compeller of truths_ with it and, well…” Steve shuffled his feet. “Things were pretty much shot to hell.”

“But Nat.” Bucky ground out, temper flaring. “This is… you can get her back, right?”

“I don’t know, Buck,” Steve took another step forward, reaching a hand to his friend’s shoulder, but Bucky jerked back, anger replaced by fear. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re freaking me out.” Barnes confessed through gritted teeth. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to rest; anywhere but Steve.

Hands held up in a peaceful gesture, Steve backed off. “Sorry. I know, it’s…” He looked down at his hands, the pink knuckles and blue veins a definite contrast from his previous even skin-tone. “It’s really something, isn’t it?”

But his tone must have given something away, because an understanding glint appeared in Bucky’s eyes, narrowing at his friend in skepticism. “You wanted this.”

And who was Steve to lie about something he’d dreamed of for years? “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

This answer only upset Barnes and he snarled, “I’m not sure Natasha wanted what happened to her.”

 

* * *

 

Wanda wanted so badly to wrap herself up in apathy, cut off from the emotions that were surging through her. It was overwhelming! The terror, the insecurity, the anger, the dread—all of it threatened to consume her like a chaotic fire.

“Kid, hey,” Tony snapped his fingers, watching her from his workbench, gizmo in hand. “I’m talking here, are you listening?”

“No,” Wanda answered harshly. She enfolded her arms tighter around her bent legs, resting her forehead against her knees.

“Well, then start. I had Jarvis scan you when you came in, he says everything looks fine. So, what gives?”

“I’m not _fine_.” She grimaced, enduring a new sensation of embarrassment and resentment that seemed to come from above her head. “I can feel everything.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that,” Tony sighed in exasperation, resting against a metal stool and crossing his arms. “What kind of _eveything_ —”

“I can sense Sargent Barnes’ rage, Natasha’s fear, and Sam’s concern.” She raised her head, wetness overtaking her vision. “All of it. I can feel everyone’s emotions…”

“That sucks,” Tony winced. “Well, at least you’re down here with me, I’m dead inside.”

If only that were true, Wanda mused, but irritation was like a constant throbbing ribbon flowing from him to her. She wished he’d feel concerned, maybe even awestruck, and then at least she’d feel like he cared. He did, she knew it, but it wasn’t at the forefront of his mind and therefore less apparent.

As soon as the thought passed through her mind, Tony seemed to double over and rub at his eyes, sniffling. “I don’t think I could ever handle that, feeling someone else’s anger. It’d eat me up. No wonder you’re in pain.” His tear-filled eyes met hers. “I wish I could help. I’m sorry I caused this. This is all my fault and you didn’t deserve it.” The irritation that had sat so heavy in him was now replaced by guilt and worry.

At first Wanda thought he was acting, the insincere jerk, but it dawned on her with each passing second that he was telling the truth. Tony Stark, the King of sarcasm, was genuinely troubled for her.

“I’m just,” he sobbed, passing a hand over his face and catching his breath. “I mean, I really think that I’m upset because you’re upset, and I don’t want you to be upset, I want you to be happy! You deserve the best, Wanda!”

“Stop,” She murmured, watching carefully.

Sure enough, he stopped his emotional spouting and shook his head. “Ick, feelings.”

Curious, Wanda reached out with whatever this new ability was and tried to prompt him to feel happy. His laughter echoed from wall to wall, as did his claps, and he made promises to better the world and to do right by his friends and family. But just as quickly as she withdrew that happiness, he returned to his former self and glared at her.

“Was that you? All right, knock it off. I need a shower to wash off all that cheerfulness.”

 

* * *

 

Exhaustion rippled through Sam like gritty sand in every crevice. Tilting his head from where it rested against his fist, he glanced at the clock. _2:00AM_. That was the second time he’d seen it say that, so either the clock was broken or he could safely assume he’d been sitting beside Riley’s hospital bed for a day and a half. The great part about living in Avengers tower was that the “hospital” was only four floors away from his and Harvey’s apartment. Even so, he wasn’t leaving any time soon.

He’d seen Harvey once in all that time, and found himself wishing she were here right now. She’d tell him he was overthinking, to rest his head or wash up, and he’d refuse every offer she would make. Still, he missed the woman who liked to mother-hen the freaking Avengers of all people.

“Are you awake?” Her head peaked around the doorway, coffees in hand. Her blue shirt read: _The same thing we do every night, Pinky_. Pinky and The Brain. It drew a smile from his lips. That woman’s  collection of graphic tees was unrivaled.

“I was just thinking about you.” He whispered, reaching for the coffee in her outstretched hand and kissing her pink lips when she leaned down to caress his face. She hummed in approval, sipping from the paper cup and taking in the sight of Riley. There were bags under her eyes.

“Not sleeping?” He asked, raising an arm and scooting over to offer her a place beside him.

“Not with Natasha in our apartment.” Harvey lowered herself to squeeze beside him, burrowing her forehead into his neck and sighing deeply.

The heat of the coffee was a heavenly experience on his tongue, warming him to his core. Or maybe that was the soft body his hot girlfriend. Sam stroked at Harvey’s hair with the arm that was wrapped around her. “What’s Natasha doing in our apartment?”

“Steve was worried she’d find one of Bucky’s weapons in their apartment. That and Bucky didn’t know what to do with a crying baby.”

“Not really a baby,” Sam smirked, chugging another blessed sip of his coffee. “She’s like, what, four?”

“That’s a baby, Sam.”

“Not according to my Momma.” It was tempting to fall asleep like this, his girl snuggled up against him, her soft hair a pillow for his cheek, and the coffee lulling him into relaxation. She’d better not have brought him decaf. “You didn’t slip a sedative in my coffee, right?”

“Would you blame me if I did?” She chortled. “I wouldn’t do that to the good stuff.”

“This that Canadian blend?” Sam set the cup down on the floor and wrapped his other arm around her, nestling her and shutting his eyes. “What happened to my DazBog?”

“Steve drank it.”

“Son of a… man can’t even get a caffeine buzz and he’s still a thieving thiever who thieves other people’s joe.”

“Sam?” That voice definitely did _not_ belong to Harvey.

Jolting out of the chair, Sam spun around, knocking coffee all over the floor and nearly slipping in it. The head of the blond man in the bed was lolling this way and that, eyes fluttering and hands opening and closing. Sam anchored himself to the railing of the bed, eyes wide and lungs locked.

“Riles.” Sam dared to speak.

“Sam,” Riley’s eyes widened in recognition. “Sam! You weren’t hit.” Relief spread across his face. “I thought for sure…” He became aware of the hospital bed underneath him and reached for his right leg, clearly in pain. “It’s cold in here.”

“Riley, listen to me,” Sam started, but Riley had already sensed something was wrong.

“Can’t feel my legs, Sam.” Mild concern turned into horror. “What…” And before Sam could stop him, he was pulling back the covers. “Oh my God…” He was staring at the place his legs should have been.

“Riles.” Sam reached out to pull the blankets back down over Riley’s missing limbs. He could see that his friend was processing some big truths right now, but he feared what might happen when it was his turn to explain the rest of it. Like the 8 year gap…

“Everything is gonna be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 will come next Tuesday, May 29 at 4:00PM MDT  
> Do me a weird favor-- What time zone are you in, and when do you regularly read fan fictions? I'd like to set a consistent update time for my three stories (Psammead-Marvel, A Great Divide-Supernatural, and Frigid-Marvel).   
> I myself am in the Mountain Time Zone and I hope to update at 4:00PM (Psammead-Tuesdays, A Great Divide-Wednesdays, and Frigid-Thursdays), but I'm open to changing the time and days.   
> Thank you so much for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley meets Harvey, Steve makes decisions about his future, and Wanda begins to understand what her powers can do (and what they can't do).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re assuming Riley was killed in 2008 (before Tony became Iron Man). And we’re also assuming his last name is Underahl. If you want my reasoning, read the end notes, please.

The rubber grips of the wheels rubbed against the pads of Riley’s thumbs. It was an interesting sensation, the movement and the feel of his wheelchair beneath him, but it was easy to forget it was there, so fluidic were its motions. After two days of practice, Riley was so comfortable in it that his eyes weren’t on the ground anymore—they were raised upward, drawn to the high windows, bright lights, and shining interior of Tony Stark’s tower. Tony effing Stark. Riley shook his head. How in the world had he gotten here?

“It’s a lot to take in,” Sam strode easily beside him, hands tucked into his pockets. “I’ll never get used to it.”

“I mean,” Riley blinked as though he might wake up from this dream at any moment. “It’s Stark. We were testing out his equipment back in the day and now you’re living in his—”

“ _We_.” Sam corrected him.

And that was just so _Sam_ , including Riley in absolutely everything he did. It was sweet, really, and Riley would never turn down an offer from the great Tony Stark, but it was also a blatant reminder: Riley didn’t have anywhere else to go. Sure, his parents were still alive—scratch that, his mother had died three years ago and his father had remarried. And his sister lived in Texas—married with twins—but he didn’t have the gumption to announce his re-appearance. They’d mourned him and moved on after eight years. It wasn’t a cheery thought, and it must have shown on his face because Sam was peering down, concerned.

“I could eat something right about now.” Wilson, thankfully, did not ask what Riley was thinking. “How about you, Underahl?”

Riley was always hungry, as though his body was making up for all the meals he hadn’t eaten while he was six feet under. “Yeah, starving.”

Picking up speed, Riley raced toward the Avengers communal living room. He knew where that room was, despite the enormity of the tower with its endless elevators, rooms, and levels.

Sam puffed as he caught up. “Trust you to know where the food is.”

“Hell, yes.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Slow down!” Sam grabbed at the handles behind Riley’s back, forcing him to a less-than-graceful stop. “Don’t mow down the pedestrians.”

How could he not have seen the brunette standing in his path? She was on the floor now, having skidded backwards to get out of the way. It was hard to look away. Three words: _Freckles_ and _purple hair._

“My fault, Sam.” She grunted, rubbing at her backside and struggling to stand until Sam helped her up.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry,” Riley ran his hands through his hair. “Your fault? I was the one going fifty miles an hour. I’m sorry.”

But Sam’s eyes were glued to the woman. “Harv,” he said under his breath, “were you doin’ the thing? You don’t have to be—”

“I’m Riley.” He stuck out his hand awkwardly.

“I know,” she winked at him, shaking his hand. “I’m Harvey. And, yes, it’s my fault. Don’t apologize.”

“Harvey?” And then it dawned on him who this was. He forgot to let go of her hand until she wiggled hers away. “You’re Sam’s—”

Harvey cleared her throat. “Correction, Sam is _my_.”

Oh, he already liked her. “I finally meet the elusive Harvey that Sam won’t shut up about. It’s still not your fault, by the way.”

“Sure it is.” And then, for no apparent reason, Harvey simply vanished.

“Sam?” Riley’s head swiveled back and forth. “Where’d—?”

And just like that, Harvey rematerialized, holding her arms out in a _ta da!_ motion. Looking to Sam for a reaction, Riley was startled to find him looking slightly annoyed, eyes rolling.

“Yeah,” he said. “She does that.”

“Sam didn’t tell me you were an Avenger.”

“I’m not.” She shrugged, stuffing her hands into the front pocket of her oversized hoodie, which Riley now realized read: _If you can read this, you’re in my roundhouse kick range_.

There were a few moments in which no one knew what to say, all of them looking to the other person, until Harvey ended the awkward silence with an equally awkward groan from her belly.

“Right. So, lunch for anyone whose name ends with ‘ey’.” She said, waving Riley along. Who was he to say no? Even when he was leaving behind a dejected-looking Sam. “Anyone whose name ends with ‘am’ had better apologize for the thing he knows he did this morning or he doesn’t get any Frank’s red sauce chicken.”

\----

Steve was certain he should be feeling guilty right now, but honestly it was a relief to be back in his own body. Captain America had been a heavy weight to carry, and the ideal body he’d been prancing around in hardly felt like his own most of the time. Was it really so terrible to admit that he’d gotten exactly what he wanted when the wish had changed him back?

Steve’s body might be struggling, but his mind and spirit were experiencing relief. He had to use an inhaler, but he’d never taken freer breaths than now. He had to wear a back brace for his scoliosis, but his shoulders were no longer burdened. He had to take supplements in the morning and in the evening, but it was a small price to pay in the face of what he’d gained: freedom.

And leave it to Stark to make him feel like that was a bad thing. “I’m just saying you shouldn’t make hasty decisions about your future.”

Steve snorted, leaning back in his chair. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“And I’ll give you that,” Stark leaned forward in his own chair, as though that would help to make his point. “But I think the logic speaks for itself. The team’s down a few members,” his eyes strayed to the little girl across the room, coloring with crayons beside Bucky, who also colored, “so I can’t afford to lose one of its star-players. Especially to something as domestic as an Arts degree.”

“Lots of people have Arts degrees.” Steve offered, and he took a moment to remind himself to stay strong. This was _not_ Tony’s choice to make, it was _his_. “And I’m not quitting the team right this second. I’m just announcing my intentions if Thor tells us this isn’t fixable.”

Stark stole his eyes from the sweet scene of Natasha proudly holding a scribble up for Bucky’s inspection. “You don’t _want_ it to be fixable.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Steve treated it as such, rather than pretend to be reassuring. “No,” he sighed. “Not really.”

“Why?”

If not for the distressed, betrayed tone of Stark’s voice, Steve might have stated that he didn’t have to explain himself to anyone. But he saw the hurt in Tony’s eyes, the helplessness there, and he knew he owed his friend at least a short explanation.

“People forget that my… ‘transformation’, I guess you can call it, only happened a few years ago for me. It wasn’t my life’s ambition to be a soldier, I just wanted to fight in the war so we could end it that much quicker, get everyone home so life could be normal again…” He hoped Tony was tracking what he was saying, but the dark-haired man remained blank, though thankfully still listening. “Did I miss having asthma? No, you know I didn’t. But the pencil didn’t feel right in my hand. The music didn’t sound right to my ears. My… my skin was too different to be mine, so when I woke up in a world that’d moved on without me...”

Steve shook his head, “It was all too alien. And then someone asked me what made me happy and I couldn’t answer.” He met his friend’s eyes. “Tony, I couldn’t answer that simple question.”

“Steve, we’ve all been there,” Tony tried to assure him, but Steve wasn’t done.

“I wasn’t Steve Rogers anymore, Tony, don’t you get it?” He searched his friend’s face for understanding, pleading with him. “I was a symbol, I wasn’t a person. And now that I can’t contribute to the team—”

“You’ve still got a sharp mind,” Tony reminded him bluntly. That was the moment he knew Stark wasn’t listening to him. He couldn’t blame Tony, not really, not when he knew Tony was struggling to accept sole leadership of a fragmented team. But he also couldn’t waste anymore breath arguing. “You can still call the shots from the sidelines, Rogers, we can make it work.”

Steve spoke gently. “I’ve made my decision.” But then he added, “It’s in Thor’s hands now.”

Stark looked to be burying his anger, his face twitching from frustration to resignation in a matter of seconds. Then he slowly rose to his feet and left the community room.

The leftover nerves from the conversation had Steve clenching and unclenching his hands, and he could tell he was being watched from across the room.

“He’s scared. But you’re right.” Bucky spoke with a steely gaze.

Breathing out a sigh and bleeding out his tension, Steve picked himself up and knelt beside Natasha at the coffee table, watching her select color after color for her artwork. “It’s nice to have some support.”

“That’s what we did,” Bucky said, looking lost in memory.

“Supported each other?”

Bucky nodded.

“True. I just never thought it’d be like this.” Steve picked up a crayon and idly sketched. “Like I’m selfish for wanting my own life.”

“Everyone’s selfish.”

Natasha tugged at Bucky’s sleeve, nearly slicing his cornea with a paper as she held it up for him to see. But then she glanced at whatever Steve was working on and frowned, whining at Bucky in Russian.

“What’d she say?”

“She’s upset that you’re better than she is.”

Steve chortled and handed over his paper to her. “For you.” He said, hoping she would understand despite the language barrier.

She froze, fixated on the sketched face looking up at her from the paper. It was simple, really, and not Steve’s best work, but his thin hands could recall his long lost skills and the crayons had captured Natasha Romanoff’s adult visage clearly enough.

The younger Natasha was enthralled, speechless.

\----

Wanda Maximoff, for the first time, walked care-free along the beautiful paths through New York’s parks and gardens. It was picturesque, the sun shining in the blue sky overhead, the cool breeze through the green leaves in the tree, and the families enjoying each other’s company on the benches and grass. She’d even bought a coffee from a friendly barista, who maybe, possibly, probably, conceivably have been attracted to her, if her abilities had been successful. And who was to say that the warm greetings she received from each passerby wasn’t natural? And it wasn’t all that harmful, was it, if she affected the general mood around her so that everyone was peaceful?

She shushed the nagging sensation in the back of her mind and had what she considered to be the most normal afternoon. That is, if normal meant warping everyone’s awareness and lifting their spirits to be so annoyingly cheerful that there wasn’t even the smallest possibility of anyone wanting to harm Wanda. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, was there, in altering everyone else’s emotions so that she could fully experience her own?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if there are any typos/problems! I posted it before checking it to get it to you that much sooner (so be a dear and point out anything incorrect).
> 
> I assume Riley was KIA in 2008 (just before Tony Stark becomes Iron Man), Sam was obligated to finish his military contract, spent a year handling his own PTSD before deciding on school, four years to earn a Masters degree as a Certified Rehabilitation Counselor, and one year working at the VA hospital before Sam met Steve in 2014 (CATWS). Psammead started (and is “continuing”) in 2016, meaning Riley has been dead for 8 years. Just in case the math mattered to you (as a writer, it’s important to me). 
> 
> Also, Riley’s last name (in this fic) is Underahl, seeing as the MCU didn’t give him a last name and the actor who portrayed Riley is Ron Underahl. 
> 
> I hope very much to post the next chapter next Tuesday, but between my spouse's deployment, my three babies, my day job, and life in general, I hope you'll forgive me if it's a little longer than next week. Thank you so much for reading!


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